Spiral
by Some1tookmyname
Summary: Sometimes the best plans still go terribly wrong.
1. 50 50

_Author's Note: I've been doing several bets and challenges lately, along with short Moments that tickle my brain here and there, but this one? This one started stomping around in my head and WOULD NOT get out. It's been a while since I embarked on a multi chap, but here it is. Special thanks to the incomparable Jaded-repartee for the back and forth, the talented Baileyjane for her suggestions and the unparalled Sunsetdreamer for her encouragement._

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><p>It would be so easy to win a few hundred dollars. He always was good at pool. Just a small bet.<p>

The man playing at the far right table in the pool hall wasn't any good but he liked a challenge and couldn't resist a bet. Booth had noticed him at the bust there that morning and the guy was still there hours later, probably down, but not out and willing to bet more.

A few hundred dollars would help.

He didn't know what the biggest draw was. Was it the smell? The stale beer and blue chalk permeating the air? Was it the sound of the balls into the pocket, the clatter of the break? Was it the lighting, dim with pale yellow bursts over the tables themselves?

Or was it just the money?

The house the realtor had found the day before was a great house. Perfect. And well over budget. She reminded him their budget didn't _have_ to be what it was. That the money wasn't important to her, but that it was important to her that they both love their new home. He said he didn't think he could love a home that he wasn't paying his fair share for. She accepted his words and called the realtor, telling him to keep looking.

He understood it was _his _issue, not hers. But it still ate at him.

Fifty-fifty. He wanted to split things fifty-fifty.

Which meant settling. Settling for a smaller home, with a smaller yard and no room for a tree house.

They both really wanted that tree house.

He hated that she had to settle. For him. It just killed him. Because she deserved _everything _and he wanted to be able to give her that.

And he couldn't.

She was accustomed to certain things. Price tags didn't mean much to her. And while she would still buy the clothes that she wanted, the shoes, those crazy, chunky necklaces and earrings that she liked, other things like couches and beds and rugs and even the nursery were just becoming a matter of her settling for second best. He felt strongly that she was doing most of the compromising while he just kept looking at his bank account trying to figure out how to get her what she wanted.

He knew it was asinine. Somewhere in his brain he knew he was being ridiculous. She could afford so much more than he could and had no problem paying for things. She saw no inequality between them.

But he couldn't get past that stupid, old fashioned idea that he was supposed to be the one to pay for things. The fifty-fifty alone was a kick in the gut for him. He wanted to provide for her and the baby, the way his father had never quite managed to provide for his family. The way he hadn't been allowed to provide for Parker.

Just that morning he'd spotted several baby gear catalogues in the garbage.

Very expensive baby gear.

In the garbage.

He'd pulled them out and looked through them while she was in the shower. He'd never even known thousand dollar strollers existed. But there were actually several and his partner had circled one.

He had to admit it was nice. But a thousand dollars nice?

It just highlighted the differences between them. He couldn't imagine paying that, she likely never even stopped to consider much beyond that she liked it.

But the catalogue was in the trash can. Which to him said that she knew. She knew he couldn't pay for even half of that. She knew he didn't have the money.

And when he found the baby gear catalogue open on the kitchen counter to strollers all under two hundred dollars his heart thudded in his chest then sank into his stomach. Again, she was compromising. Again she was silently giving up what she could easily buy on her own. Because of him. Him and his stupid ideas and ridiculous pride and his desire to be everything his father had never been.

He wasn't his father.

Or was he?

Because standing there now, ready to go back down the path to hell, he sure did feel unable to beat back the demons that plagued him.

Maybe it was all of it. The lights, the sounds, the smell and the money. It was all calling him, making him consider doing something he hadn't done in years.

Place a bet. Take a gamble. Make some money. Win.

_Win. _

One win and he could afford his half of that stroller. If he could win again he could almost afford to buy it for her outright.

He always was good at pool.

The feelings that came with a win…it was something he could nearly taste even after all this time. It was a rush, an invincibility….it made everything better.

He'd been good for years; controlled it all for so long. He was stronger now than he was then. He could pocket the money and walk, he was sure of it.

And the win would make him feel good, but buying her that stroller…that would be the best.

He could do it. Just this once.

Or twice.

He shook as he took out his wallet. He didn't have to open it to know he had fifty dollars in there.

He could turn that into more. Of this he was certain.

Until his phone rang. It rang the way it did only when it was her cell calling his.

And suddenly he wasn't certain of anything anymore.

She wanted to know where he was. He was supposed to pick her up. She'd been waiting.

That's when he remembered why he'd had to quit. It was things like this. Forgotten pick ups and missed appointments, all nighters and nothing but lies and excuses to everyone, himself included.

He broke into a cold sweat and said the only thing he could.

"I need you."

_~To be continued~_


	2. Down the Rabbit Hole

_Author's Note: I was blown away by the response to chapter 1. Completely and utterly amazed. Thank you all so much. Special thanks to Sunsetdreamer for her look through of an early draft, jadedrepartee for her ninja-like beta skills and jenlovesbones because she's just good for my neurotic writer's soul._

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><p>She stared at the phone for a good ten seconds before leaping into action. Grabbing her bag and laptop, she tore out of her office.<p>

She didn't know what was wrong. Beyond "I need you" and a street name, he'd said nothing, but his tone…she'd never heard him like that before. He sounded not only desperate but defeated. It made everything in her lurch and sink, so much so that the baby rolled against it inside of her.

She kept telling herself that he hadn't really told her anything and that she could well be overreacting. She often missed tones and inflections; perhaps this was one of those times. Perhaps she had simply misunderstood him. Perhaps she had misinterpreted his voice. But he'd said he needed her and that was what mattered, no matter how he meant it.

She didn't have the patience to hail a taxi. Instead she half sprinted into Angela's office, her belly leading the way.

"Ange! Angela! I…I need your keys."

"What?"

"Your keys. To your car. I need them."

"You need to borrow my car?" Angela half laughed, but her smile quickly fell, her expression becoming concerned.

"Yes."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm…fine. I'm fine I just… I need your keys. I don't want to wait for a cab."

"Brennan, you are kind of freaking me out."

"Angela…please?"

"Is Booth alright? Has he been shot or something?"

"Or something. I'm not…please, Ange…"

"Okay, sure. Here." Angela fished her keys out of her purse and handed them to her friend. "Please be careful."

"I promise to attempt not to damage your car."

"It's not my car I'm worried about." The artist called after her, her words lost in the scientist's hurry.

As she made the turns the GPS instructed, she attempted to stem the tide of panic that was taking over more rational thoughts.

Booth was the one who always stood strong.

"_I need you."_

Booth was the one who didn't falter.

"_I need you."_

Booth was the one who navigated them.

"_I need you."_

Booth was the one who knew how to be half of a couple.

"_I need you."_

She tried to think of every logical way in which he might use that phrase. She tried to get the sound of those words out of her head with reasonable, rational scenarios.

Perhaps it was Jared. Perhaps he was drunk and Booth needed her assistance somehow. It wouldn't be the first time they'd had to peel him off a barstool…his sobriety hadn't survived his split from Padme.

Maybe there was evidence somewhere. He never carried evidence bags or even gloves, despite her advice that he should. Perhaps he just needed her expertise; her professional skills. It was probably a crime scene and she's simply misunderstood.

Perhaps it had to do with her father. That was never outside the realm of possibility and certainly not something he would disclose over the phone.

It could be something simple. They'd been looking at furniture and décor together, imagining it in their eventual home. It could be that he found a couch or a piece of art he liked. Perhaps a crib for the baby.

His words could mean almost anything. This didn't have to be bad.

But none of these scenarios were frightening to her and his voice had caused knot in her stomach that would not vanish. She knew what to do in all the situations she had imagined, but her biggest fear was that this was something she wouldn't know how to handle. What if he needed something she couldn't give?

Not being what he needed was the very thing that had kept her from saying yes him that night on the steps of the Hoover.

Not being who he needed was her biggest fear in life.

"_I need you."_

Yes. Certainly it must be that she'd heard him wrong.

Until she saw him and knew that she hadn't.

She parked Angela's car at the top of the street and studied him for a moment.

He was sitting on the curb, his back slumped and his shoulders carrying the posture of a weary man with the weight of the world sitting on him. His forearms rested on his knees and he seemed to be staring absently at his hands, his fingers idly playing with his poker chip.

A bright neon sign flickering above his head caught her attention. "POOL HALL." It practically screamed at her, the "L" blinking into the fading daylight.

She couldn't help the gasp that escaped from her lips, the reality and enormity of the situation rushing through her, overwhelming her with waves of fear.

The baby kicked in response to her distress and her hand automatically flew to her stomach to soothe both their daughter and herself. She tried to even out her breathing, attempting to tamp down her panic.

Of all the scenarios she had imagined, this was not one she had considered at all.

She felt sick for him. He'd been through so much in his life, so much that would kill a lesser man and he'd overcome it all. He'd said he had everything he wanted now. He told her often that he was happy. Happy with her. Happy with the baby. Happy with their life.

So why now? Why had his recovery faltered when he was supposedly the happiest he had ever been? Was it possible he wasn't as happy as he'd led on?

She refused to believe that without more facts. She would not speculate any further about this, not when the answer was so close. Conjecture was not something she would allow in her work and she decided to apply the same rule now. She simply couldn't know until all the evidence was in.

There was no reason to panic. Not yet.

She took one last deep breath and exited the car. Walking towards him she could tell he knew she was there by the slight shift in his posture, but he made no move to acknowledge her presence.

Slowly and awkwardly, she lowered herself beside him on the edge of the sidewalk and joined him in his silence for several minutes.

"Thank you." His voice was raw and he didn't meet her eyes, but she knew he meant it just the same.

She nodded. "Did you gamble?" She asked softly.

He swallowed hard and looked to the sky, as if a better answer would be in the faint moon over their heads. "Almost."

She let out a long, shaky breath she didn't realize she'd been holding but found no words to say.

He offered nothing else and so they sat wordlessly a while longer, as grey light turned to dark and the street lights came on to throw shadows over the asphalt beneath their feet.

"Let's go home." She finally said, her back unable to take the hard seating anymore.

Even when things change, even when there is a fundamental shift, not everything is different. She was grateful for that as he stood first, pocketed his poker chip, and took her hand, helping her to her feet.

"I can't…" he handed her his keys.

"We'll take Angela's and come back for yours tomorrow." She linked her arm though his as she had so many times before and they walked back up the street, arm in arm. She laid her head against his shoulder, remembering another time they had been upset; their world in upheaval. A time when he had reciprocated despite his pain, the connection important to them both.

This time he did nothing, too lost in his own thoughts to return the gesture.

That lack of connection terrified her more than anything else.

She'd read _Alice in Wonderland_ in high school and suddenly felt very much like they'd just gone down the rabbit hole.

She wondered what it would take for them to climb back out.

_~To Be Continued~_


	3. BandAids and Bullet Holes

_**Author's Note: **__Thank you all for your responses, questions, alerts and reviews. I appreciate every single one of you. _

_Special thanks this time around to eitoph for double checking my math, jenlovesbones for letting me haunt her "anyways" and for the tech work, and of course, jadedrepartee because for all the help she's given I could practically slap her name on this as co-author._

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><p>The silence on the way back to Booth's was deafening; his stillness, heart stopping.<p>

Booth always moved. He shifted in his seat or fiddled with the radio or played with his poker chip. He always tapped his fingers or bounced his leg. At the very least, he talked.

Now he did none of those things. He simply sat and stared out the passenger side window.

Over the years there had been many times they'd had important conversations in the car. But this time, for this conversation, it didn't feel right. Maybe it was because they were in Angela's car or maybe it was the enormity of the situation, but she just could not do it there. So she said nothing, determined to wait it out, to let him lead, to give her some idea of what he needed from her.

She guided the car into a parking space, turned off the engine and watched as he wordlessly made a quick exit to the curb. She allowed herself one steadying, deep breath before she got out and joined him at the exterior door.

He pulled the door open for her and waited silently. She went first, leading the way to the stairs, pocketing Angela's keys and pulling out his. The only sounds in the stairwell were the quiet thumps of their shoes hitting the concrete steps.

As soon as she had his apartment door open, he brushed past her to the bedroom. She shrugged off her coat and went to the kitchen knowing she needed to eat something, as much for the baby as for herself. She decided on some toast and tea. Her stomach was too upset for much else.

When she emerged from the kitchen Booth was on the couch in casual clothes, not quite as still anymore, fiddling with his poker chip. His jaw was set now, and if she had to guess, she would say that he'd turned from being just upset to being angry with himself.

She set her plate and cup on the coffee table and sat beside him. "Did you want something?" She motioned to her food.

He shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

The silence was thick and heavy and she didn't think she could let it go on any longer. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't…I don't even know what to say."

"Tell me what happened."

He swallowed hard and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, reminding her of the way he'd been sitting on the curb just 40 minutes before. "There was a bust…a perp we'd been tracking. Somebody called in a tip this morning that he was at that pool hall."

Her toast and tea remained untouched. She gave him her full attention, shifting sideways a bit to face him.

"I don't know what it was. I mean, I've been in places like that before; pool halls, card rooms… hell we even went to Vegas and I did okay. But today… I just…I couldn't. I couldn't get it under control. It ate at me all day. I had to get back there, you know?"

She didn't know. It was outside of anything she had ever experienced, but she nodded anyway, wanting him to continue.

"So I went back. At first I told myself I would go and not play, not bet. I needed to prove to myself I could do that." He paused, staring at the poker chip as he worried it with his fingers. "There was this guy…he was losing. He'd been there all day, since the bust at least. He was terrible at pool but he just kept betting. And I knew. I _knew_ I could beat him. I knew I could make that bet and I could win." He clenched and unclenched his fist around the chip.

"What stopped you?"

"You did. I had my wallet in my hands, Bones. I was gonna do it. And then you called and I...I knew I couldn't do it and then not do it again and again. I knew I'd be right back to it like just I used to."

"So you asked me to come."

"Yeah." He ran his hands over his hair. "God, I almost screwed everything up."

It was her turn to be quiet and still for a while as she studied her partner intently, all her focus on him. Her heart was racing, questions whirling in her head as she tried to decide the right one to voice.

"Why now?" She finally asked.

He looked at her. "What?"

She spoke slowly, determined to say the right thing, leaving nothing to misinterpretation. "It's my understanding that typically addiction relapses are caused by specific triggers or stressors." She stopped, and bit her lip, trying to find the courage to continue. "Are you…unhappy?"

"Unhappy?"

"Yes. In all the years I've known you, you've done well controlling your addiction. I can't think of anything that's changed in your life except…me. Well, me and the baby." She smoothed an imaginary wrinkle in her shirt over her belly. "Are you unhappy with me? With us?"

He stared at her, his face a cross between utter disbelief and total concern. " Are you kidding me? I've never been happier."

"Then what is this about? There must be something…"

He leaped to his feet and began to pace the room. She could tell he was trying to decide which was more important: the desire to share his burden or the need to keep it to himself.

"I want to know, Booth." She said, watching him pace. "If there is something that needs to change or something I should do differently, I will. I want to know why this has happened. Why now? What's changed?"

The words tore from his mouth without his permission. "I saw the stroller, okay, Bones? I saw it."

"Stroller? What…what stroller?"

"The one in the catalogue."

"The catalogue on the counter?" She was confused, but eager to soothe. "I was just looking at them. Certainly we don't have to get…"

"No!" He stopped pacing to look at her. "Not the one on the counter, Bones. The one in the garbage! The one with the thousand dollar stroller. The one you know I can't afford."

Her face became ashen, her stomach seemed to twist inside. "This…this is about the money?"

He moved to the window and looked out, his shoulders slumped. "Yeah. I guess it is."

"I don't…" She tried to bite back the anger she was beginning to feel. "I don't know how many times I have to say that I don't care about the money."

He whirled around to face her again. "Well I do!"

"I know that. I _know _that. That's why we're doing the 50/50 split, just like you wanted." She was confused and felt off- kilter. "I'm not sure what else I can do…"

"Nothing. There isn't anything you can do." The defeat was back in his voice. He sounded dull, his tone flat and he turned to gaze unseeingly out the window once again.

"Then…"

"It's me, okay? I care about the money." He gripped the window casing as if it were holding him up. "My mom, you know, she didn't write jingles for fun, alright? She had no choice. There were too many days where my dad couldn't work; too many days his hands shook too bad to cut anyone's hair. He couldn't take care of us, so she had to. And I…I promised myself, even has a kid, that I would never do that; that I would provide for my family."

"You do!"

He turned to face her again, throwing his hands up in defeat. "Bones! I can't keep up! Even half that stroller is more than I can afford if we're taking on a mortgage." He rested his head against the wall, looking at the ceiling. "Hell, we can't even find a house we like because of me."

She was quiet, processing his words, and he knew she was trying to decide what to say next.

"This isn't about the money, is it?"

"I just told you that it is." He wouldn't look at her, choosing to go back to staring out the window instead.

"I don't believe you. This is about your father."

He scoffed. "So what? You're a shrink now?"

"Of course not! You _know_ how I feel about psychology. But I do know you, Booth and something is bothering you. I just do not think this is only about the money."

He didn't answer and the air was thick and heavy with truths, both spoken and unsaid.

"We can't fix this if you don't talk to me." She said quietly.

"You mean fix me, don't you, Bones? _You_ can't fix _me_ if I don't talk about it."

"You aren't broken."

He spun around to face her, his eyes a mixture of pain and tears like she'd never seen. "The hell I'm not! I can't….God, I stood right there, Bones, right _there, _in that pool hall and thought about all the ways I can't be what you need. And what was my answer to that? Betting. Gambling. Risking _everything _by going back to my biggest weakness. I'm an addict, just like my dad. An addict who cannot provide for his family."

Now it was her turn to jump to her feet in anger. "Do _not_ talk about yourself like that!"

"Why not? It's the truth, isn't it? I can't give you the life you are used to. I can't be what you need. No fancy houses, no thousand dollar strollers…you deserve _everything _and I'm not able to give it to you. I can't buy it myself and I can't seem to accept you buying it for us, so here we are. Stuck. Because of me. Because I can't get it done. Just like my old man." He turned to walk away from her, but she grabbed his arm and made him face her.

"_You _would never strike me. You would never strike Parker or our daughter. You would never hurt us. You recognized what you were about to do and you didn't do it. You thought about me, about us, about our family and everything you had to lose and you did not gamble. That is nothing like you father."

He pulled his arm from her and backed away, running his hands through his hair "But I would have! So help me, Bones, I could feel it. Every cell in my body…I could taste it. If you hadn't called…I would have done it. I would have given in. Just like he always did." He was angry and harsh.

For every step he took backward, she took one forward, refusing to allow him to retreat. "How many times did your mother beg him not to have another drink? How many times did she beg him not to go out the door to that bar? How many times did she call the bar and beg him to sober up and come home?" Tears were pricking at her eyes, so desperate was she to make him understand.

"All the time. I told you…all the time." His voice faltered at the memories she'd invoked.

"That's right. All the time. And I didn't even have to ask you once. You are not your father. Not in any way." She spoke softly now, the mere inches between them feeling cavernous. "You…you give me so much, Booth. I've never…" The tears fell now and swiped at them with the back of her hand. "I'm living a life that I love but never expected and it's because of you. I want you to understand that I am not sacrificing anything to be with you. The truth is that I've gained _everything_ because of you. I wish you could see that. I wish…"

A shuddering combination of a sob and a sigh escaped from her lips and nothing would ever prevent him from trying to soothe her pain, not even his own. He stepped to her, closing the distance between them and at his touch she threw her arms around his neck and he held her close.

"I'm sorry, Bones. God, I'm so sorry." His own tears fell into her hair. "I don't…I'm happy. I am. I'm sorry I made you think I wasn't. You don't deserve that kind of doubt."

"You don't deserve doubt either." She whispered into his neck.

They stood a long time that way, clinging to each other, drawing strength from one another.

"You have to talk to me." She said quietly, after a while.

"I know."

She forced herself out of his arms and he made himself let her go. It would be so easy for them both to pretend what had already been said was enough.

They both knew that it wasn't.

They took their seats again on the couch, he facing forward, she sideways, facing him.

"I thought 50/50 would work." He began. "I thought straight down the middle would make the most sense. But then we started looking at houses…everything we both liked was more than I could afford and everything I could afford was missing so much of what we both wanted."

She nodded, but said nothing.

"I just…I just can see us, see you, having to give up things you could easily buy yourself because of me. And even though I hate that, I can't let it go."

"Because you want to provide for me and the baby, monetarily."

"I at least want to be even with you."

"Because of your dad."

"I need to be better than him." He was studying his hands and she imagined he was comparing them to his father's.

She nodded slowly. "I can appreciate that."

"You can?"

"Yes. We all want to do things differently than our parents, don't we?" She rubbed her belly in slow, small circles, thinking of all the things she wouldn't do as a parent. "You have to know that what you provide, what you bring to our relationship, is so much more important to me than money."

"I guess." He glanced at her quickly, then went back to his hands. "But…"

"But?"

"Yesterday, that house…Bones, it was perfect. I wanted it for me, but I wanted it more for you. And I knew that you loved it. I loved it, too, but at that price…I just couldn't say yes."

"I was okay with that, Booth."

"But I wasn't and then this morning, with that catalogue and the thousand dollar stroller…it was just like a knife in my heart. I can't give you want you want, even at 50/50. And then I saw the catalogue with the cheap strollers and then the pool hall…" He rubbed his hand over his eyes "It just all came together wrong for me, you know?"

"You asked me to include you." She spoke so quietly he couldn't be sure he'd heard her correctly.

"What?" He looked at her, confused.

With a bit more strength behind her words she repeated herself. "You asked me to include you. You didn't appreciate me making decisions without including you. You were mad about the ultrasound and I understand now that you should have been there. You didn't want to go to the financial planner, but you wanted to be asked to go. While that's a bit unclear to me still, I understand that the point is inclusion. You can't ask that of me without doing it yourself. Now it is _you_ who is leaving _me_ out."

"I don't mean to. It's just that… it's my problem, you know? I know it's me, I know I have to work on it."

"By going to a pool hall and betting for a stroller I never even wanted?"

It was his turn to go pale. "You…what?"

"That was Angela's catalogue, Booth. _She_ circled the stroller. It's the one she has for Michael. She wanted to buy it for us as a gift but I told her no because that's a ridiculous price for a stroller and because I already have my eye on a different stroller. It's in the other catalogue…the one you thought I was settling for."

"Oh God." Booth ran his hand over his face in exhaustion and disbelief.

"If you had just told me…perhaps this could all have been avoided."

"Maybe." He sounded unconvinced.

"You…you think it would have happened anyway?" She ventured.

"The way I've been feeling…" He blew out a deep breath. "Yeah. Yeah, Bones, it probably would have happened at some point anyway."

"I didn't know."

"Because I didn't tell you."

"You need to."

"I know. You're right."

"Maybe we should stop the house search for now, until you feel better about things. It's not important _where_ we live together, it's just important that we _are_ together…partners. We've…we've always been best when we're together. The logistics don't really matter, do they?"

"I want that for us, though. Our place, our house…the one we come home to with our daughter for the first time. The home we build together."

She thought for a moment. "Okay, then what about a more…proportional division of finances?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, my financial advisor suggests that a mortgage payment be no more than thirty percent of your salary. What if you pay thirty percent of your salary and I put in thirty percent of mine? It's still even in its own way, but it allows us to stretch a bit further, helping you to feel less like I am compromising."

"Proportional percentages." He said slowly, turning the idea over in his mind.

"Yes. A different kind of 50/50." She looked at him anxiously. "Do you think that would help?"

He nodded nearly imperceptibly. "Yeah. Yeah, I think that could work."

"It's not a solution, though, is it? Not really."

"More like a Band-Aid. I still have to fix the bullet hole, you know?"

She nodded. "And how are we going to do that? Are you going to talk with Sweets about your father?"

"No." He shook his head. "No, not Sweets. This isn't…I don't want the kid in this. Not this time."

"Then…who? Someone from your church?"

He appreciated her acknowledgement of his faith as an option. "I could but…I don't know. I was thinking maybe Gordon Gordon."

"But he's a chef now."

"Maybe he'll let me sit at the chef's table again."

"Can I sit with you?"

"What?"

"You said before that you needed me."

"Yeah. I did."

"Is that still true?"

"It's always true, Bones."

She smiled a little. "Good. Then let me sit at the table with you. We can work on this together; you and me. We're a good team."

"We're the best."

Her smile grew. "I agree. We are the best." And then her expression became serious again. "So…that's next, then? You'll call Gordon Gordon?"

He glanced at the clock on the wall. "It's late now, but yeah. I'll call him in the morning."

"First thing?"

"Not quite first thing. I've got something else I've got to do first. For me."

"You mean for us." She corrected.

"For _me_ for _us_, if that makes any sense."

"It doesn't really, but I trust you." She reached over and laced her fingers through his, pulling his hand to her belly, where their daughter began to roll beneath their palms.

"Even after today?"

"Always." She answered, matter-of-factly.

"Thanks, Bones."

In the dim light of the room and from the angle of their hands on the side of her stomach he couldn't see where his fingers ended and hers began.

And somehow that seemed fitting.

_To Be Continued..._


	4. Climbing Out

_**Author's Note:** I haven't gotten my "thank you's" out for the Chapter 3 yet, but please know that I am thankful for your reviews and that they are coming._

_Thanks to JenLovesBones and jadedrepartee because they make me so much better at this writing business than I am on my own. I could not have written this without them._

* * *

><p>He woke early and did what he always did when he woke up first: He listened to his partner breathe.<p>

She would undoubtedly say it was an odd habit, but he couldn't help it. It was a peaceful sound and it grounded him, made him feel whole. There would never be anything better than waking up and knowing she was right there beside him in every way.

He treasured that knowledge even more this particular morning.

He indulged a few moments longer, then crept silently from bed. It was early, with only the slightest traces of light sneaking in from underneath the blinds, so he was careful not to wake her. He pulled on sweats and a t-shirt, then padded out to the kitchen where he scribbled a quick note to her, grabbed his keys and his phone and laced up his shoes.

A run. A run was what he needed.

Well, part of what he needed.

He started slow. With every footfall he felt stronger, more empowered, more _able _to do the things he was going to have to do. As he increased his speed he could feel the pavement under his feet, unyielding to his strength. He could feel his lungs burning, his muscles stretching, his heart pounding.

But more than anything he could feel himself rising above it, pushing through it, beating it.

And it felt good.

He slowed his pace two blocks from his destination. He needed time to cool down, to slow his heart beat and control his breathing. Soon he was in front of the nondescript, red brick building with stairs that he could either take up to the higher floors or another set that went down to the basement level. He'd been here before and knew to take the steps that went down.

A deep breath and a quick prayer and he went inside.

* * *

><p>It was the quiet that woke her.<p>

It had only been a little over seven months since they'd started spending nearly every night together and in that relatively short time, she'd grown accustomed to hearing certain sounds. On mornings when he got up before her, she'd gotten used to his rattlings in the kitchen; the ping of the spoon against the cereal bowl, the opening and closing of the refrigerator, the rustling of the newspaper.

On mornings when she woke first, she would lay there and just listen to him breathe. It never ceased to amaze her, this life they were living together now and she loved those lazy mornings when she could just listen and take time to appreciate him, to appreciate _them, _and everything they had become to one another.

Yes, it was the stillness that woke her and once she was cognizant of that, she threw back the covers and got out of bed to retrieve the note he'd left her.

He always left a note. It was one of the little things he did that she appreciated more than he probably knew.

It was where he always put it, stuck to the refrigerator with one of those pin-up magnets she'd chosen long ago not to comment on. His messy scrawl told her he'd pick her up at the lab for lunch but that she shouldn't forget to eat breakfast. She both rolled her eyes and smiled. The normalcy of it after the events of the previous day was a relief.

She dropped half a bagel into the toaster and began to make some tea when it occurred to her where he probably was. Firing up her laptop, she did a quick search and found what she was looking for. She picked up her phone and when the other end connected, the words she spoke were unusual for her. "Cam? I'm taking the morning off. I have something personal I need to attend to."

* * *

><p>The faces were different and the coffee was a worse kind of bad, but the day old donuts and the stories and the flow of the meeting remained the same.<p>

He felt…better. Not good, but better; as if a weight had been lifted from him. It helped to share with people who were in the same boat, who understood the pull and were battling against it just like he was. He knew without question he'd be at another meeting soon.

He was just disconnecting a phone call when he emerged from the building and saw her standing across the street, a to-go cup in her hand, another cup on the half wall she was resting against.

His heart surged in his chest as a smile crossed his face. She was beautiful. He'd always thought so, but now, as he followed her gaze to a mother and little girl walking hand in hand, he was overwhelmed by it. What he had done to deserve her in his life he'd never know, but he was incredibly thankful for her.

She saw him then and when their eyes met she matched his smile with her own. He waited for a car to pass by, then jogged across the street to her.

"Hey." He said, when he reached her.

"Hi." She picked the cup up off the wall and thrust it towards him. "You said once that your meetings had bad coffee, so I brought you this."

He took it gratefully. "How'd you know where I was?"

"It seemed like a logical conclusion." She took a sip of her own drink. "How was it?"

"It was…good." He answered. "It's where I needed to be."

She smiled that small, goofy sideways smile that he adored. "Good." She echoed.

"You know, Bones," he looked back towards the building he'd just left. "This is for the rest of our lives."

"You and me?"

He chuckled, then met her eyes more somberly. "Well, that too, but I mean, this. These meetings. This kind of maintenance. The potential…" He took a steadying breath. "The potential to backslide. I can get it in check, but it's always going to be there."

She nodded. "I know."

She answered as if she were well aware of it and it didn't bother her in the least. He doubted he'd ever get over how lucky he was that she loved him the way he loved her.

She interrupted his thoughts. "I thought we should probably go get your car. Angela has texted and called several times wondering if her vehicle is still in one piece."

"Okay. I should probably shower and change before we do that."

"Can we get some breakfast first?"

"I had a couple of donuts at the meeting. You didn't eat?" He asked, thinking of the note he'd left her.

"Well, I was making a bagel but then I forgot it in my hurry to get here." She rubbed her belly sheepishly and it made him grin.

"Yeah. Come on. Let's go get both my girls some breakfast." He offered her his arm and she linked her own arm through it. "But we'll have to eat a light lunch." He said, as they started up the street towards the car.

"Why?"

"We have dinner reservations."

"We do?" She studied his profile, curiously.

"Yep. Best seat in the house."

"The chef's table?" She ventured.

"Yeah. The chef's table."

"That sounds good." She settled her head on his shoulder.

"It's a start." He said, as he rested his head against hers.

And they walked on, together.

_~Fin~_


	5. Author's Note

**Author's End Note:**

I want to take this opportunity to say thank you to all of you who have commented on this piece, both through this site and on Twitter. I think this story has elicited the most vocal response of any I have written and I'm honored that so many of you took the time to tell me what you think.

Also, to those of you who alerted or favorited this story, thank you as well. Your faith in me to give you another installment that you'd want to read is amazing. I have truly been humbled by the response. The idea struck a chord within me and it seems I have been able to strike one within some of you as well. So thank you all for reading. I am grateful to each and every one of you.

I've gotten a lot of questions and comments, both in reviews and private messages about this piece. I was also concerned, based on some comments, that there would be some disappointment as to how I ended this fic. I thought I would answer some questions and address the whys here. If you know who En Vogue is then you know what I mean when I say "And now it's time for a breakdown" And if you don't…well then you are probably young and I am jealous of that.

**1)** The inspiration from this story probably grew from this season's mentions of gambling and money, however, that isn't where it started. In the 100th episode, at the very beginning of the flashback, Brennan tells Sweets "Booth had a gambling problem before he met me." To which Booth replies "Well, since I mostly won, it wasn't really a problem." This was the seed that started it.

While I have no doubt that Booth was downplaying for Sweets' benefit, it struck me that he was quite casual about his addiction. And if indeed, he truly was so blasé about his addiction and recovery, there was a wide window left open for the chance of a relapse. Before you can truly begin to move past an addiction, you have to fully acknowledge it's a problem. Combine that with this season's money talk and the dice we've seen and the gambling mentions and I hit on this idea.

**2)** The plan for this fic was always that it be a short multi-chapter story. My apologies to anyone who got excited about an appearance from Gordon Gordon Wyatt. I was so focused on where I was going I didn't stop to consider people might anticipate something that was never going to happen. My bad!

Why did I want it to be short? I agree that there could be a longer story here. Absolutely. The money thing will be a hard battle for Booth because it's steeped in his relationship with his father and in some very ingrained ideas of how he feels a romantic relationship should be divided up . But my spark for this fic was, again, the gambling problem. And addictions have no resolution. As Booth says, they are forever. Since an addiction like Booth's has no resolution, I didn't feel that my story should either. It would be disingenuous to wrap it up with a neat little bow. Life is messy.

**3)** So then what was the point? Well, to show that they really are in it together. They hit a bump, fell down a rabbit hole and what happened? They got scared, they got angry, they cried and they talked. She supported him and he was grateful. They are taking baby steps together. The togetherness in the face of crisis was the point. They love each other and their relationship, curveballs and all, is solid. Together they are climbing out of that hole.

So that's the breakdown. If you still feel dissatisfied or be unhappy about it, then just know that I was true to my original vision and that I'm sorry it's not what you were expecting.

Just remember: Life is messy. Nothing is perfect. Not even fan fiction.

Thank you all so much for your time and readership. You are amazing.

Tracy


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